Addiction
by naxa
Summary: What could cause Charlie to relapse into heroin addiction? His little sister and Claire's baby both play into the equation. Please R&R!
1. Siblings

Charlie looked at the tiny baby in his arms, deaf to the roar of the ocean, the sound of Michael and Jin yelling at each other, and Hurley's sarcastic comments. Even in the days after its birth, the miracle of it all still amazed him. In this place of fear and ever-present danger a new life had began, even as another ended. When he looked at the baby's soft, round face, his heart swelled with love and pride, a feeling he never thought he would feel again.

Ten Years Earlier 

Meredith, called Miri by her big brothers, sat next to Charlie at the kitchen table. Looking over at her, Charlie was amused by the giggly fourteen-year-old delicately licking jam off her toast. The house was dark and quiet, save for the hushed conversation between the two teenagers who had sneaked downstairs in their pajamas for a midnight snack of jam on toast.

"So did you ask Becky to the dance yet?" Miri asked eagerly, poking Charlie in the side in an attempt to get a faster response.

"Ya."

She paused, waiting for more of an answer… "And!"

"She said maybe," Charlie picked at his bread forlornly.

"Maybe?"

"Ya! Maybe! What on earth does that mean, anyway!" the date-virgin eighteen year old snorted derisively, "Maybe!"

"I'd say she panicked in the face of such astounding manliness and the only thing her poor, overwhelmed mind could think was 'maybe'," Miri suggested confidently.

Charlie chewed his bread contemplatively, nodding vaguely, "Do I hafta spend more time with her now?"

"Kinda, ya," Miri said knowledgeably, "You should take her on a date before the night of the dance to prove how wonderful you are."

"Like where?"

"You're so cute! Eighteen years old and absolutely _no_ idea how to take a girl on a date!"

"Hey! Don't make fun!"

"Sorry, man. Take her to a burger place," Miri's voice had lost its teasing tone, but her eyes still danced wickedly over her toast.

"Can't – it's Lent, remember?"

"Oh ya, no meat." They regarded their jam-smeared bread thoughtfully. "Does jelly count as an unnecessary luxury?"

Charlie sighed and took Miri's breat. "Yes." He threw both in the trash bin under the sink.

"I'll be back in forty days, oh sweet, gooey, sugary jelly bread!" Miri cried dramatically, putting the jam jar back in the refrigerator.

"Is there confession tomorrow?" Charlie wondered aloud.

"Yup, Mum's dragging Liam."

The two padded quietly out of the kitchen. The clock on the oven read 1:48AM. "I guess we need to go now," Charlie said, flicking off the light. Miri leaned on him heavily, yawning. "I guess. Do you think we'll get in extra trouble for breaking Lent within the first two hours?"

"I hope not."

Together they shuffled off to bed.


	2. Snack Food

A/N: I forgot to put a disclaimer in my first chapter. I don't own anything/one except Miri. She came from the gray, gooey crevices of my own brain.

It felt good for Charlie to be out and about, doing useful things. Even though the sun beat down on him mercilessly as he helped Kate forage for any fruit they could find, he took pride in knowing he was doing something productive. There had been plenty of times when he had done things counterproductive to his own well being. He had been a heroin addict. He probably didn't even remember half the shit he did while high. But now he had a fresh start, a new way of life, even though one with a rather bleak long term outlook.

"Charlie!" Kate called, "C'mere and help me reach this!"

"OK, cuz I'm real good at being able to reach for things that are high up," he quipped good naturedly, trudging over, "All the women swoon for the guys who can always reach that top shelf, who can get the lid off the pickle jar, the sweater off that stupid rack in the store hooked to the wall four inches below the ceiling. Yes, if you ever have a task for a particularly tall person, I'm definitely the one to call."

"Cute, Charlie," she grinned, "But actually, I only need you to catch the fruit when I drop it down to you."

"Ah, grabbing and holding. Yet another of my myriad talents." He positioned himself below Kate, who was already up among the limbs of the tree. "Heads up!" she yelled, dropping something gold-green colored and vaguely ovoid. Charlie, preoccupied with the "innocent" bee buzzing around him, didn't even notice. A second later, it hit him square on top of the head. "BLOODY HELL!"

Kate laughed. "Really nice, Charlie. Truly, I'm very impressed."

"Ha ha. You planned this all along, didn't you."

"No…I think you just screwed up…"

_**Four Years Earlier**_

"You were amazing, Charlie!" Miri said, hugging him tightly, even though he was all sweaty and gross from the concert he had just given with Driveshaft.

"Thanks, Miri," Charlie replied through a rather strained grin.

"You too, Liam," Miri tried to hug her oldest brother too. He got angry and pushed her into the wall. "Don't touch me, Meredith," Liam hissed before striding away. Immediately Charlie rushed to help Miri up. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," the young woman looked shaken, but she wasn't about to let Liam wreck her visit with her other brother.

They ducked into Charlie's dressing room. Film canisters with little baggies of heroin were scattered about on the vanity. "God, I'm so glad to see my little sister!" Charlie enthused.

"I wanted to surprise you!" Miri replied, regaining her bounce.

"I'm sorry about Liam," Charlie apologized, "He's been weird."

"Don't apologize for him."

Miri was talking to him, but Charlie wasn't listening. His eyes kept flicking over her shoulder to the vanity where the heroin was plainly visible. He smiled his strained smiled again.

"Hey, where's the loo?" Miri wondered, looking around.

Charlie quickly pointed to the appropriate door, "Right there." As soon as she pulled it shut behind her, he frantically raced over and gathered up all the film canisters and stuffed them in a freestanding cabinet. Carefully but quickly he arranged the bags of chips in it to hide the drugs, then slammed the little door shut.

A moment later Miri emerged from the bathroom. "Want a drink?" Charlie asked, "I'll run down the hall and get whatever you'd like."

"Whatever you're having." She shrugged. Miri had grown up into a moderately conservative woman. She wore a modest but attractive outfit, with her hair tumbling around her shoulders in curls and glittery eye shadow. A sign of her piety, however, was the tiny gold cross dangling around her neck on a fine chain. Charlie had given it to her as a Confirmation gift.

While Charlie was out, a roadie brought in a guitar in its case. "Is there any snack food around here?" Miri asked him.

"There should be some in that cupboard."

"Thanks," Miri grinned at the roadie as he left. She opened the cabinet and triumphantly lifted out a bag of chips, and a film canister rolled onto the floor. Curiously she picked it up and opened it. A baggie fell into her palm.

Just then, Charlie walked in. His eyes widened when he saw what she held. "Oh Charlie," She whispered, "this is heroin."

_**On The Island**_

Cheeks turning red, Charlie wiped gooey pulp off his shirt as he and Kate walked back to camp. "You've got a lot in your hair," Kate observed amusedly.

"Gee, thanks," he wiped at it futilely, "How long 'till we get back to camp? I don't want this shit to dry on me."

"A while."


	3. Guilt

In his mind's eye Charlie pictured Claire's little baby. It brought a smile to his face, even though after hours of tromping through the dense, humid, jungle with Kate he was exhausted and sweaty. "What're you grinning about?" Kate asked grumpily.

"Hm?" Charlie snapped out of his pseudo-daydream, "Oh, nothing, just, ya."

The way its bottom lip would pout during sleep, its bright, vivid blue eyes, so like the mother's, everything about the new baby made Charlie happy. With Claire's little family to take care of, he felt like he had another go at his own life. Hopefully he wouldn't screw it up this time. But he knew very well that he was damn good at screwing perfectly good things up. It was like his special talent or something.

FOUR YEARS EARLIER 

His eyes widened when he saw what she held. "Oh Charlie," Miri whispered, "this is heroin."

"Miri—," he started, but she cut him off.

"Don't lie to me, Charlie. I can always tell. Your eyes still glitter when you lie." She set her jaw, "I'm going to help you fix this."

"Leave," the rock god said icily, holding the door open.

"Cha—,"

"Get out."

"You don't mean that!"

"Don't make me call security, Meredith."

Just plain sad, not at all angry, Miri walked out. The drugs dropped into a trash bin as she passed. Charlie had his back to her, looking fixedly at the floor. At the door, Miri turned around again. "I was going to tell you tonight, Charlie, I'm getting married on September 14. You're invited, if you can tear yourself away from yourself long enough to come."

Charlie said nothing.

"His name is Derek, which you'd know if you still acted like my brother. He's a doctor."

Again, he ignored her, too lost in his own guilt. It was a long time before he had the courage to glance over his shoulder to see if she was gone. She was. Quickly developing anger, he yelled furiously and slammed the door shut. In a fit of rage he kicked furniture, screamed, and pummeled the walls. When it died, he was left lonely, guilty, and with a fractured finger. Liam was livid when Charlie couldn't play for a couple weeks.

ON THE ISLAND

"C'mon Kaaaaate!" Charlie whined, dragging his feet, "Admit it! We're lost…er…than usual…"

"Cute, cap'n," Kate said drily.

"Cap'n? Cap'n what?"

"I dunno. Cap'n Cool. Cap'n Compass Master. Cap'n……..Cubic Root…take your pick."

"I'm rather partial to Cap'n Cubic Root, thanks."

Kate stopped and looked around, hands planted on her hips. Finally she sighed. "OK, fine. We're lost. Let's climb that ridge and see where we are."

"Oh, cuz I loooove climbing ridges," Charlie answered snarkily, "I'm so glad I decided to stop coddling the cutest thing on this island besides your luminous self to go trudging through in an insect infested jungle."

"Were you referring to Claire or her baby?"

"Hmm, good question." Charlie grinned. Kate led the way up the ridge at a brisk pace. They were losing light quickly. The pair crested the rise just as the sun was setting. Red light bathed them both. The moon was just rising over the ocean on the horizon. Charlie stared at it contemplatively. "It looks like the sun slit her wrists in the bathtub." Kate gave him a weird look. Charlie didn't talk about death or violence or very many morbid things at all. Being slightly whiny and pessimistic, maybe sometimes when he was in one of his rare bad moods. But full on creepy, morbid, death, blood, and decay talk? Never. He didn't seem to notice her look. "The moon drove her to it." His head was tilted slightly, and a look Kate vaguely recognized was on his face.

MONTHS BEFORE THE CRASH

Charlie and some friend leaned against the dirty brick wall of a Manchester alley. "That was bloody good stuff," Charlie said with detached happiness.

"This shit's gonna cost you, man." The guy said menacingly.

"Ya whatever."

"No, not ya whatever. You owe big time quid and you're runnin' out of grace real fast, rock star."

"Don't get your knickers in a twist! You'll get your money!"

The guy gave Charlie a hard shove into the brick. The red light of the sun in its final stages of setting beaming into the alley was suddenly and sharply blocked by a figure standing at the mouth of the dead end hole. Charlie's aggressor gave him a dirty look and stomped away, brushing roughly past the petite figure in the blood red sunlight. The red Sun Goddess gave the man a glance over her shoulder, then stepped forward toward Charlie. Miri materialized as the sun finished setting and darkness fell in the alley. She stood in front of him, looking both scared and determined. "They said this is the place to come to get a fix in Manchester." She spat angrily when she saw how high her brother was, "Thought I might find you here." For a second, her anger grew, but then she sighed and let it go. Even after everything he had done to her, Miri still loved her brother too much to stay mad at him. "C'mon Charlie, I need you to come home with me." She squatted in front of him and took one of his hands. She looked directly into his unfocused eyes. "We'll fix this. I need you to be better."

He looked down at her vaguely.

"Please Charlie. I really need my big brother right now." She stood up again. A final ray of light shone over her shoulder, illuminating a bruised and cut cheek, ear, and collarbone, all on one side. There was a mark from a ring around her left ring finger, but no ring.

"You need me." Charlie stated. "Whatever for? What could poor old Charlie ever do to help? Isn't that what your precious husband is for?"

"I left him yesterday, Charlie! Please come be with me! We can help each other!"

"Left him." Charlie said simply.

"He was—," Miri's words caught in her throat, "He was sexually abusing my girls. I took them and myself away the moment I caught him." Her hand brushed her bruised shoulder unconsciously. "Derek was not happy."

"You have girls? Daughters?"

"Yes Charlie! Twins! Nine months old! I left a message with the band manager after spending three months trying to get a hold of you or Liam!"

"I'm an uncle…" Charlie said tenderly.

Miri was crying now. "Yes! Yes! Come be an uncle to your nieces! This addiction is killing you, Charlie!"

All tenderness left him at the mention of his addiction. Uncontrollable fury made him stiffen. "I'm NOT ADDICTED!" he said in a voice that shook with rage, "DON'T PRESUME TO KNOW ME ANYMORE!"

"You don't mean that Charlie!" Miri cried, cringing. "Please come stay with me! Me and the girls need you!"

"What do I care!" he threw her down with all his might on the pavement, "It's your fault for screwing the wrong guy, whore!" Turning his back on his sister, Charlie stalked away, leaving a motionless black shape alone in the alley. Back in his hotel room, he dragged a razor blade across the tender skin of his wrist, watching the blood well up, drip onto the counter, and eventually dry. Then he did it again. And again. Only then did he feel something other than angry.

ON THE ISLAND

"You're creepin' me out," Kate said, turning away from the suicidal sunset to look over the far edge of the ridge. Charlie seemed lost in thought, running a finger beneath the bracelets on his wrist along the skin there. Turning her attention back to the task at hand, namely, trying to figure out where they were and how to get back to where they wanted to be, Kate looked down over the side of the ridge they hadn't climbed. There, perhaps just fifty feet below, was a crushed looking little plane. Her breath caught in her chest with a sudden rush of adrenaline.


	4. Hakuna Matata

A/N: thanks for all the reviews, everybody! Keep it up! I heartfeedback!   
** ON THE ISLAND**

"Charlie!" Kate yelled, "Come look at this!"

"What?" Charlie meandered over, eyes still on the blood red sun.

"Down there." She pointed. Seeming to shake something off, Charlie perked up and crept closer to the edge of the ridge. He shrugged and began climbing down to the small plane lying in a heap on the ground. "What are you doing!" Kate exclaimed, leaning over cautiously.

"Miming in Central Park." Charlie shot up to her, tumbling ungracefully the last few feet to the jungle floor. While Kate watched, he crawled carefully into the plane. "Charlie!" she yelled, scared for him. Finally, she decided to follow. Apparently Charlie had made it look easy, because it took Kate a heck of a lot longer to get down than he did. When she poked her head in, Charlie was kneeling on the floor, turning five small baggies packed with off-white powder over and over in his hands, eyes locked on those small, innocent looking objects. Shards of a broken Virgin Mary figurine littered the ground around him.

Kate pushed a stray curl back from her face, hardly breathing. Charlie's callused hands paused in their relentless handling of the heroin packets. "That's not…" Kate whispered.

"I…" Charlie started, "We should go."

Kate seemed to mull this over. She stepped outside the plane for a moment, breathing the clean jungle air deeply. In the instant she was gone, Charlie stuffed two baggies into the waistband of his jeans. The bulges would show in his pockets. He knew all about stashing heroin. Other broken figures had spilled their cargo, some of which Charlie picked up. Kate still was not back. He glanced over his shoulder to see her facing the trees, hands planted on her knees. She wasn't looking. Another baggie went into his jeans. Slowly he climbed to his feet and walked out to stand slightly behind Kate.

His mind was wheeling. "I can't use this heroin," he thought, "I can't do that again!" It kept blazing through his brain like a comet. Just this overwhelming thought of "NO!" But his mind and his body wanted two different things. He was just three months out from needing a fix every couple hours. His body hummed with anticipation, remembering how good it felt to be high. It was like a comforting glow. Nothing matters. Hakuna matata. On this island, where nothing was easy, where just going to take a piss involved a five minute walk, where people suffered from constant diarrhea, complete hakuna matata would be amazing. As he and Kate walked slowly back toward camp, he felt his mind slowly caving in to what his body craved.

But no! It hit him so quickly he stumbled. What about Claire? The baby? What would him using do to them? Would apathy be good for his surrogate child? What would Claire say if she found out? Charlie was so lost in thought that he didn't even notice when he just stopped walking. "Hey, you comin'?" Kate asked, glancing over her shoulder.

"Uh," Charlie groped for words and found none. He just started walking again. Kate shrugged and looked forward again. She found it weird how Charlie had suddenly fallen silent. Around her he was never a deep, thoughtful type person. He was a sarcastic, talky type person. As she thought about it, she realized he had gone weird with the discovery of the heroin. The baggies he had been holding had been, at his suggestion, tucked safely in Kate's pack. "He was in a band," she reasoned silently, "Maybe he knew someone with a heroin problem." When they arrived back at camp, she put it from her mind. Charlie had dashed off somewhere, presumably to find Claire. They had been gone a lot longer than they had initially planned. Kate began asking around to find Jack.

"You looking for me?" he asked, coming up behind her as she spoke to Hurley.

"Found him." Hurley said, taking his net and wading back into the water in hot pursuit of fish.

"Ya," Kate turned to face Jack, digging a baggie from her backpack. "Charlie and I found a whole lot of these in the plane that killed Boone."

Jack's brow furrowed as he took the drug. He didn't say anything for a long time. Then his head snapped up. "You and Charlie?"

"Ya, we were out looking for fruit but got lost."

"Dammit!" Jack cursed, suddenly furious.

"What?"

"Where's Charlie?"

"I don—"

"Where is he!"

"I don't know! He left right when we got back to camp!"

"Was he acting weird?"

Kate tilted her head, thinking. How did Jack know that Charlie was acting strangely? "Ya, he was…very quiet."

Jack cursed again. "Don't show this to anyone else, all right?"

"OK, Jack."

He turned and sprinted up the beach to where Claire liked to sit in the shade. She was there, watching him and wondering why he was running.

**MONTHS EARLIER**

Charlie knelt sloppily on the floor of the bathroom in his hotel room, staring at the blood drip slowly down his arm. To him it meant so much. It was a physical manifestation of the pain he felt inside. It was a way for him to torment himself for being too weak to break his addiction. It was punishment for what he had said to Miri. He loved his little sister dearly, but if he did what she asked, he would have to give up his drugs. But the heroin he had just snorted was purring in his veins, and most of all, that rich, crimson blood was just beautiful.


	5. Secrets

MONTHS EARLIER 

The cuts on his wrist never really went away. New cuts and old scars were lined up like soldiers, reminders of his weakness. It was a long time until he could finally put the razor blade down and go to sleep. He kept wondering what Miri would think if she saw him at that moment.

ON THE ISLAND

Claire hadn't seen Charlie yet, and was beginning to worry. Muttering curses under his breath, Jack went off in search of the missing Rock God. For some reason the song Charlie had written, "Monster Eats the Pilot," played through his head on an endless loop. It was starting to creep him out enough to distract him. That's why he nearly collided with the short man at the edge of the beach. "Jack!" Charlie exclaimed, obviously surprised.

"Give it to me, Charlie," Jack said, holding out his hand, "You don't want to start with it again."

Kate, who had followed Jack at a more sedate pace, saw the exchange begin from a ways away.

"Bloody hell, man!" Charlie said, forcing a laugh, "You think I'm crazy or something?"

Jack looked at his pupils, noticing that they were normal. Charlie's speech wasn't slurred or slow, nor were his movements. The doctor concluded that even if Charlie had taken some heroin, he hadn't snorted any yet. "Where is it, Charlie?"

"Lay off, Jack!" Charlie was beginning to feel the old defensiveness come back. It was what got him in trouble before and would most likely do so now. Rather than face Jack, he ducked around him and walked over to Hurley in search of a bottle of water. Jack watched, sighing with resignation.

Kate jogged the rest of the way over, finally picking up the pace. "What was that, Jack?" she asked.

He didn't reply right away, but watched Charlie go and squat comfortably next to Claire. It was a strange feeling to watch a former drug addict possibly on the verge of relapse grin and coo at a little baby. Finally Jack made a decision. He had to know if Charlie took any of the drugs. "Did Charlie carry any of the heroin?"

"He had a couple baggies in his hands when I got down, but he suggested I carry them back." Kate was confused.

"Tell me exactly what happened."

Kate relayed the entire story from the time they got lost until they got back to the beach. It dismayed Jack to find that there had been plenty of time for Charlie to stash some drugs on his person. He was at a loss.

"Jack, why does it matter?" Kate asked.

"Charlie was in the bathroom snorting heroin when the plane went down."

Now Kate was the one without words. "Are you serious?" was the most intelligent response she could muster.

"Sadly, yeah, I am. You know, during the cave in,"

"Yeah?"

"He was going through withdrawal. Burned what was left of his stash."

"So it wasn't the flu." Kate fell silent, thinking about their early weeks on the island. Lots of puzzle pieces were falling into place. That was why he had been so keen to find the cockpit: the bathroom was attached. He needed to find his stash. Why he had all of a sudden developed a temper. In the days after the crash Charlie had been very laid back and easygoing. As she though about it, Kate realized that his attitude change corresponded with his bout with "the flu."

Charlie was so happy to see Claire and the baby again. The sun had colored Claire's cheeks with a faint blush in his absence. She was so beautiful. They talked quietly until late at night and sometimes just staring happily at the baby. Sawyer felt the need to make fun of them every time he walked past.

MONTHS EARLIER

Charlie woke up with his cheek pressed against the rough textured carpet of his hotel room floor. With a groan he sat up and fumbled for a fix. His stash was on the vanity in the bathroom where he had left it. Blood, dried to the color of rust mixed with dark chocolate, had pooled where it had landed the night before. As he poured the fine powder into his palm he looked into the mirror. Dark circles rimmed his eyes. A thin smear of blood ran along his cheekbone. Charlie wondered how it had gotten there. His hand shook as he snorted the heroin. As the drug took effect, he stumbled over to the small television in his room and switched it on. The artificially cheerful voice of a newscaster filled the room. Some story about two boats colliding. Charlie foraged for some food-type stuff. A stale baguette was all he came up with. He watched the news with half an eye, more concerned about his breakfast than the news.

"And in other news, twenty-four year old Meredith Pace was found dead early this morning in an alley on the south side of Manchester. Though she had several minor injuries, she appears to have died of hypothermia.

"Miss Pace and her twin daughters fled her husband, Michael Green, two days ago on account of domestic abuse and child molestation."

Charlie was glued to the screen. His breath made fog on the glass screen as he fought to get air into his lungs. Dead? How?


	6. Decision

ON THE ISLAND 

Charlie dug through his luggage, looking for a little zippered pouch he kept all sorts of itty bitty knick knacks in when he travelled. He needed another guitar pick. "Charlie!" Claire called, walking over. He glanced up almost like a frightened deer. Almost. "Would you please go and get some water for the baby? I'm afraid he's getting dehydrated."

"Sure." His face was creased with worry for the fragile life laying on a blanket in the shade. "Can you find me a guitar pick in here while I go?" He pressed the pouch into her hands and climbed to his feet. Claire nodded and Charlie jogged down the beach, looking for Sawyer. He always had extra water. Always had extra everything, come to think of it. The hot sand was hot and dry beneath Charlie's callused feet. He had given up on battered checkered slip-ons some time ago. Now he only wore them when he went on one of those crazy quests with Jack. They had been much more frequent when they had first crashed. Now it felt like everyone had just accepted that the group was stuck on a supernatural island.

"Turnip-head needs some water." Charlie said, squatting next to Sawyer. They had made peace with each other after Charlie's first babysitting mission. Now Charlie had access to Sawyer's stash of goods. He suspected the terse man of having a soft spot for babies, but would never say so out loud. Sawyer put his book down, took his Harry Potter reading glasses off, and regarded Charlie. Finally he got up. "Water it is then."

"Thanks. I think I'm gonna run to the caves tomorrow and get some more. You know, for drinking and whatnot. I'll bring an extra bottle back for you."

"I'd appreciate that," replied Sawyer sarcastically. A couple people had decided to go visit the beach for a couple days. Claire claimed the sound of the waves soothed the baby. Sawyer came because…no one quite knew why Sawyer came, but Charlie had a pretty good idea. "You're turning into quite the little daddy, aren't'cha," Sawyer said, rummaging for the water.

"I guess." Charlie shrugged. He was happy to. Sawyer's tone of voice made it seem like a bad thing. Sawyer gave him the bottle and Charlie jogged back to Turniphead. Jack had suggested they give the baby extra water because it was such a harsh environment. It would be very easy for such a little thing to become dehydrated. They had improvised a bottle from a heavy, rectangular plastic bag by cutting off a tiny piece of one corner. Charlie pinched the tip shut and poured a couple tablespoons of water into it, ignoring his shaking hands. His skin was unpleasantly clammy where the plastic bags of heroin touched it. He had slept the night with them there, pressing against him, tempting him like some twisted prostitute.

"There's a rip in the lining, Charlie." Claire came over, still digging. "Some stuff had gotten between the lining and the outside layer of the pouch." Charlie had to turn his face away to hide the wince. That pouch had also served as a hiding place for small amounts of heroin. Claire was busy digging her beautiful fingers in there. She was too clean, too pure to be touching that dirty pouch.

"It's old," he said finally. The baby was drinking from the "bottle" thirstily, making a cute little humming noise. Charlie grinned down at the baby, it reminded him of other babies he knew.

"Hey, what's this?" Claire lifted out a slim, wallet sized photo album., "Mind if I look at it?"

Charlie paused. "No." he looked at the baby, willing his hands to be still. "Go ahead."

Claire opened it curiously, looking closely at the pictures inside. He knew exactly what she was seeing. Two little babies, identical twin girls. They had mops of dark blonde hair already. Stormy blue eyes graced both of the tiny faces. So did small round noses and cleft chins. "Are…" Claire had to stop and swallow before continuing. Charlie offered her the bottle of water, but she shook her head. "Are they yours?" A date was written on the bottom of one photo. It was just a couple weeks before the plane went down.

"My sister's." Charlie turned away, taking deep breaths to keep away all the emotion fighting in his chest.

Claire sounded very relieved when she spoke again. "I didn't know you had a sister."

"I don't anymore." Charlie sat down, finally giving up. "She died a little before we ended up here." He put his head between the knees he had pulled to his chest. Miri had always called him a "bendy little bugger" when he did that.

WEEKS EARLIER

Charlie wanted to rush straight down to the police station. He really really wanted to. But he was so fucked up he probably couldn't find his way out of the hotel, let alone all the way to the police station. He was forced to settle for watching the news.

"Pace was found in an alley in Manchester early this morning. The cause of death has been determined to be hypothermia. While it wasn't colder than forty degrees last night, prescriptions for the treatment of pneumonia were found on her person. Dr. Bethany Ward of the Royal Hospital in London, when asked by the police to release a statement on whether or not this could worsen hypothermia, said that it would be very easy for a woman in her condition to succumb to it, even in this mild of weather."

Charlie felt terrible for not noticing that his Miri was sick. He used to be so in tune with her. Before Driveshaft…before everything. It was difficult for him to pinpoint the exact moment when he and Miri were no longer friends. The closest he could get was after the first concert of Driveshaft's first tour.

"Pace and her twin nine month old daughters had fled an abusive marriage days before. The ex-husband, already in custody for rape and domestic abuse, is not a suspect. He has been in jail for the last two days and could not have been related to Meredith's death. Her brothers, Liam and Charlie Pace formerly of the band Driveshaft—"

"WE'RE STILL TOGETHER!" Charlie hollered at the television set, pitching a pillow at it.

It took Liam a week to track Charlie down and made him come to the nicer hotel he was staying at. Liam had received custody of Miri's girls. They cooed at Charlie as he held them. Charlotte and Lynna were their names. Charlie didn't wonder why. The only way he could tell them apart was because the police had put a "C" on the bottom of Charlotte's foot and an "L" on the bottom of Lynna's. When Liam took the girls with him back to Sydney, leaving Charlie alone again in Manchester, Charlie felt the lowest he ever had in his entire life.

He didn't go to Miri's funeral.

ON THE ISLAND

Claire was shocked into silence by Charlie's words. He'd never mentioned a sister. And now, three months later, for Claire to find out about his recently dead sister. "God," Claire whispered, "Why didn't you, you know, tell me?"

"What good would it do?" Charlie asked suddenly, lifting his head sharply, "She'll still be dead, and it'll still be my fault." Charlie got up and walked away, all the feeling suddenly drained out of him. He was numb, like when he fell through thin ice once when he was a kid. He knew he was supposed to be in pain or something, but couldn't be. He hated that feeling. It was so flat, so devoid of any passion. Even fear or anger or jealously would be welcome right now, just so he'd feel something.

Charlie wasn't sure where he walked or how long it took to get there. He wished he had brought his shoes because his bare feet were being scored and punctured by the unforgiving debris on the jungle floor. But he didn't feel anything. Midday found him sitting on the shore of an inland, freshwater lake. He stared out at the water, lost in a whirlwind of thought. It had been his fault that Miri died. He was the one who had thrown her onto the pavement and knocked her unconscious. He was directly responsible. Now her girls were parentless. Liam, sisterless. Now brotherless, too. Charlie was certain he and the other survivors of the plane crash had been left for dead long ago. He'd probably been buried near Miri and their parents in the churchyard in Manchester. The coffin had been empty, though. What was it like to bury and empty coffin? Did Liam, the last living member of their family, have even the foolish glimmer of hope that some of the survivors seemed to cling to? The one that kept saying they would be found soon. What did it mean to die? Did it hurt? Charlie figured his death had hurt. He didn't feel that pain now, though. God, he wanted to feel something!

Charlie didn't even notice when his hand went to the waistband of his jeans and removed a baggie of heroin. Habit moved his fingers, loosening the knot and pouring the white dust into his palm. It felt good when the powder provided the much-missed buzz in his veins. Finally, Charlie felt something.


	7. Setting Out

ON THE ISLAND 

"Claire—" Jack walked over to her purposefully. She had seemed flustered all day, "What's wrong?"

She glanced at him, then back down at the baby in her lap. "Oh, um, it's Charlie."

"What about Charlie?" Jack asked with concern.

"He, ah, got upset about something this morning and walked away. He's not back yet, and I'm getting worried."

"Upset about what, Claire? Did you two have a fight?"

"No! God no!" Claire laid her baby down on a blanket, "It was his sister."

"Sister? He's never mentioned a sister. Said he had no one who would care. Remember, during the cave in?"

"Ya, I do. She died shortly before…all this."

"Was she on the plane?"

"I don't think so."

Jack looked at the ground, thinking. Charlie, he knew, would take anything as an excuse to relapse. He knew that he'd have to be careful confronting him this time. He'd have to have evidence, otherwise Charlie would just get mad and deny it all.

Charlie moaned with pleasure and inhaled more of the intoxicating heroin. When his nose was full of the powder, he rubbed it on his gums feverishly, relishing the euphoria. What was wrong with feeling this good? Why had he ever agreed to stop before? High as the sky, Charlie staggered further out into the jungle. It was all of a sudden sunset again, and the red light filtered through the trees like blood dripping through a colander. "You all everybody!" he sang in a falsetto, nearly plowing into a tree, a giddy grin stretching his face grotesquely. Who cared where he ended up? He certainly didn't care about getting lost or eaten or any of those petty types of things. Charlie had his heroin, and that's all he needed to make his body sing.

"Where's Locke?" Jack asked no one in particular, storming off down the beach.

"Jack, what's going on?" Claire followed, carrying Aaron.

"I need to find Locke."

"I'm right here." John said, stepping out of the undergrowth, "What can I do for you?"

"We gotta go find Charlie." Jack's jaw was set, his eyes steely.

"Why do you need to find him so bad!" Claire was beginning to panic. She was missing something. She was sure of it. "He's just upset about his sister!"

Locke caught on quickly. "He must have found the plane."

Jack nodded shortly.

"What does that have to do with anything!" shrieked Claire, "What's wrong with Charlie!"

"Claire," Jack said, "I need you to stay here and keep an eye out for Charlie. If he comes back, don't let him leave again, no matter what state he's in, all right?"

"I'm not waiting here!" she was furious now. She had a right to know what the hell was going on. "Sun can watch Aaron." And with that she stomped off to find the Korean woman.

Always the opportunist, Sawyer sauntered over. "What's got Miss Mommy all upset?"

"Nothing." Jack said, stuffing water bottles into a backpack.

"Didn't look like 'nothing' to me, Doc." Sawyer looked around cooly, "I don't see her beloved Has-Been anywhere around. Must be all over him."

"Sawyer, for once, just shut up." Jack said wearily.

Claire had grabbed a backpack and water. Over Sawyer's shoulder, Jack saw her go stomping into the jungle. He brushed past Sawyer, who bristled angrily, and went after her. Locke fell in step as they plowed into the trees. A few soft words to Claire calmed her down sufficiently to make her see that Locke would be able to track Charlie far better than she could.


	8. Author's Note

A/N: Hey readers (if you still exist after so long…I know there's gotta be at least one…)! Sorry I haven't updated in so long! My computer crashed and I lost everything. I've got the next chapter almost done-- I just have to revise it. Unless something unforeseen happens, it ought to be up in the very near future! Thanks for stickin' with me!


	9. Caving In

A feeling unfamiliar to Claire filled her heart and spilled into her guts, making them feel like a wad of wet paper towels. She didn't know what this feeling was called. Worry? No…Dread? No…Terror? No. Shaking her head fiercely, Claire gave up on trying to figure out how she felt and focused on finding Charlie. Locke would not walk fast enough for her. Every time he stopped to look at a broken stick or a footprint in the wet earth, she felt like screaming and clawing his slowpoke eyes out with her fingernails. Charlie could be dying! He could have fallen straight off a cliff! The mention of his sister had created, no, reopened a fissure in him that was deeper and darker than anything either of them had ever experienced. She would find Charlie, and when they got off this godforsaken hellhole of an island, she would make visit Miri's grave and truly bury his sister.

Charlie awoke slowly. Sooo slowlllly. First came the incessant chirp-TWEET! of some dumb bird. Then, the muted green light filtering down through the canopy. Dim as it was, it still hurt his poor, dilated eyes, drilling into his brain like the electric drill his father had been so proud to own. "No." he muttered, rolling over. A stick dug into his ribs. A rock was his pillow. He fumbled clumsily for more of the drug that made him feel so—"NO!" he cried, leaping up. His head cracked soundly on a tree branch that had to have been made of iron. "I didn't do that! For the love of god, someone appear and tell me it was a bloody bad dream!" He rubbed his sore head, wishing he could soothe the ache in his chest. He had caved in. He had sworn never to use heroin again, and he had failed. His resolve had the strength of a melted ice cube.

A LONG TIME AGO

"Wake up, Charlie!" Miri cried, dancing around his room and throwing the window shades wide open.

"No." Charlie muttered. He hated the light when he was trying to sleep. In his opinion, prime sleeping took place in a silent, pitch-black environment with a very, very squishy pillow.

"It's time to go, sleepyhead! You've a meeting with your new manager!" she threw the words out like candy at a parade, with all the same enthusiasm, the same eagerness, "You're going to be a star!" That woke Charlie up. He jumped up, throwing his blankets in a heap on the floor, and played air guitar with no amp, but he did use his mouth, which had surprisingly good sound quality. Miri squealed excitedly and jumped on the bed with him until Liam yelled at them from the bathroom to shut up. They fell silent and suppressed giggles like schoolchildren caught sneaking sweets. "You're gonna be a star!" Miri whispered, nearly exploding with excitement, "When you're rich and famous and Driveshaft has gone multi-platinum, can I stand on the stage at one of your concerts and play tambourine or cowbell or something, just so I can know what it feels like?"

"You can play tambourine whenever you want, Miri!" Charlie laughed, "You can be our mascot!" They giggled some more, then Charlie shooed her out. He had to get dressed. _Now_, he thought, gazing into his closet, _what is my very coolest, hippest, most rock starry outfit?_ The purpose of the meeting was to discuss cover art for their album. Everyone but Liam agreed on a totally sweet abstract image. Liam said that it didn't show the band's true image. Whatever. Three against one.

Two hours later, the band was sitting in the spacious office of their manager. He was showing them the possibilities. There was the one everyone liked, and group photo of the band on top of a rusted out old car, and one with Liam in the foreground and the other band members silhouetted far in the background. They had all agreed that Driveshaft would not become the Liam Band and had told their manager from the start that the cover of their album would not feature any one band member. "We want the trippy one." Charlie said proudly.

"You lot sure?" the manager asked, smiling greasily. "What about this one?" He lifted the one of Liam. He perked up right away, seeing that the manager favored that one. "Naw, I think the band all agreed on that one."

"Done." The manager said quickly. Before anyone knew what had happened, they were out on the curb. Charlie ground his teeth furiously. "What the hell was that?" he asked Liam, close to boiling over.

"Yeah, man." Another member agreed.

"What? I thought that was the best representation of our group." Liam replied innocently.

"It doesn't matter what you alone think, Liam! It's not your band!" Charlie got right into his face. "In what twisted version of reality do you live in where it's OK to ignore the band! Hmm?" He knew the rest of the band supported him on this one.

"Hey, I got us the record deal, I sweet talked that sleaze ball in there." Liam shouted, "I did! Me! Are you all so ungrateful? Maybe I'll just walk right in there and tell the manager that I got to sign us that we're not interested anymore."

"You wouldn't." Charlie hissed.

"Hey Charlie," the drummer who had supported him earlier was now standing beside Liam, "Maybe we'll just let this one go. Liam has a point."

"Yeah." The other agreed.

Charlie's jaw worked, but words wouldn't come out. He'd never been this mad before. It was like lemon juice on a paper cut, but all over his body. His brow furrowed, and unfamiliar motion. Then, with a sigh, he gave in, scared of what Liam would do, scared of hurting Driveshaft's chances for success. "Fine." He sighed, ever though saying it physically hurt. Liam grinned smugly. "Good, then. Let's go." Rage made Charlie's hands shake, but he climbed into the car anyway, a good, well-behaved, docile little sheep.

ON THE ISLAND

Charlie looked around, evaluating the condition his body was in. He'd once woken up with a missing tooth and two black eyes. To this day he had never figured out what he had done to get them. This most recent blackout had not resulted in anything too painful. The knock on his head hurt most, and that had been after he woke up. Beyond that, just a bad scrape on his cheekbone on his rock-pillow and gross looking cut on his forearm. "Now." He wondered aloud, "Which way is north?" He didn't even know which direction to go. Eventually, he just picked a direction and started walking. It wasn't until then, when he cracked the scabs, that he noted his poor, shredded feet. Every step was like kicking a porcupine and left a smudgy red footprint on the leaf litter of the jungle floor.

He viewed the pain as punishment. He deserved it and far worse. Even now, with his mind relatively clear, his body cried out for a fix. It was like listening to Aaron cry. Charlie's heart ached to soothe the wails, to do whatever he could to make things better. But this time, he would not. He could not…he didn't want to…no…


	10. Running

He didn't know for how long he walked. It wasn't his steps or direction through the jungle that occupied his mind, but rather the steps he'd taken that had lead his life in such a downward, sickening direction. "What's wrong with me?" Charlie wondered aloud, "I'm not like that anymore!" He took out a bag of the innocent-looking powder and stared at it. He balled his fist and made as if to throw it away, then hesitated.

"What would happen," Charlie asked himself, "if I kept this?" He leaned his forehead against the rough bark of a tree, his breath coming in ragged gasps. But he knew the consequences. He knew exactly what would happen if he opened the little bag and poured out the contents into his palm. It made his guts ache. Finally he growled in frustration and jammed the baggie back into the waistband of his jeans. He needed to find Claire. He'd promised to make a trip to the caves and get some water.

WEEKS EARLIER

"No, no, Liam! C'mon!" Charlie moaned into the phone, "Brother! Please!"

"I'm sorry, man, not until you're clean," replied Liam. Charlie slammed his forehead against the mirror, clutching the phone to his ear desperately. The glass splintered outward in rays from the point of impact. The cracks formed some sort of twisted halo around his head. Deep down Charlie knew that Liam was right. A drug addict didn't deserve to spend time with innocent, saintly little babies like Miri's Charlotte and Lynna. He feared he would dirty their souls, somehow condemn them to a life like his, by simply being near them. "Liam…" he tried one more time, "Please."

"Charlie, no," the finality in Liam's voice infuriated Charlie. His hands trembled as he hung up the phone. White spots danced in front of his eyes, and he swayed. Suddenly he realized through the haze clogging his thoughts that this was THE moment. This was the time when he would make the decision that would affect not only his life, but also his two beautiful nieces, which Miri had actually willed to him. He wiped a palmful of fine white powder off the vanity and made the wrong decision.

ON THE ISLAND

Charlie was faced with the same decision yet again as he trudged through the jungle. His shredded feet twinged with pain after every step. The sight of a small stream was enough to merit his little cry of delight. He soaked his aching, bleeding feet and took in his surroundings. Wondering just how far from the beach he was, Charlie gazed despondently at a particularly colorful bunch of flowers growing on the bank of the stream. Of course, he regretted ducking away from his problems on the beach by such a weak, cowardly thing as snorting heroin. What would Claire say? Would he impugn Aaron's innocence now just as he had feared he'd do to Charlotte's and Lynna's? He swore and pitched a rock into the water. Then something unusual caught Charlie's eye. Was that…a cable? Was there a cable sticking out from the bank? He waded through the water to the other side and dug with his hands in the mud, tugging at the thick cable. After a minute, he ascertained that it had no discernible beginning or end. Forgetting everything else, he turned and began to race in what he thought might be the way back to the beach.

"JACK!" he yelled hoarsely, running clumsily. He had to let the others know what he'd found. What if it was something important? Another remnant of the Dharma Project. A way to get his precious Aaron and Claire off the island.


End file.
